Free Essays on The Legend Of The Black Bayoy

â€Å"Are you listening?† the old man wheezed with a raspy voice. â€Å"Uh yeah, yeah I'm listening. I’m turning the recorder on right now, Mr. Taylor.† Dave said as he pushed the record button and readjusted his thin rimmed glasses. He looked around the hospital room for a glass of water and found it on the bed tray with un-touched hospital meatloaf. Taking a swig and then readjusting his tie, he leaned back in his chair and grabbed a legal pad and then clicked his pen. â€Å"Go right ahead Mr. Taylor† said Dave looking ready to write. The truth was he wasn’t going to write much. He was going to let the tape recorder record everything this old man had to say, type it word for word, hand it to him, then collect his check. More or less that was the agreement, so that was what he was going to do. Thinking about all of the graduate homework that actually demands some creativity and some punctuality come soon, made him regret taking this guy up on his offer. But, $5,000 would cover a semester, and it’s only a couple of days work. Besides, this guy's got what, a week or two to live; he won’t care if it’s that good or not. Mr. Taylor elevated his seat to make himself level with the young man. At first he was looking down, the old skin sagging with gravity, but as the bed reached its highest point he turns. His eyes are a dark and empty stare. Almost hollow. His hand slowly rose up, up to his head, moving his fingers where his hair used to be, as if it were still there. â€Å"I used to own a convertible you know. A baby blue Cadillac convertible. It was a gift for being the best salesman in the region. The only state in the south that I hadn’t sold in yet was Louisiana. So when they asked me if I would like to work down there for a bit, I thought it would be fun. Go down to New Orleans, go gator hunten, meet some new girls.† said Mr. Taylor as he smiled. â€Å"My little brother had just graduated high school, so I got him ... Free Essays on The Legend Of The Black Bayoy Free Essays on The Legend Of The Black Bayoy â€Å"Are you listening?† the old man wheezed with a raspy voice. â€Å"Uh yeah, yeah I'm listening. I’m turning the recorder on right now, Mr. Taylor.† Dave said as he pushed the record button and readjusted his thin rimmed glasses. He looked around the hospital room for a glass of water and found it on the bed tray with un-touched hospital meatloaf. Taking a swig and then readjusting his tie, he leaned back in his chair and grabbed a legal pad and then clicked his pen. â€Å"Go right ahead Mr. Taylor† said Dave looking ready to write. The truth was he wasn’t going to write much. He was going to let the tape recorder record everything this old man had to say, type it word for word, hand it to him, then collect his check. More or less that was the agreement, so that was what he was going to do. Thinking about all of the graduate homework that actually demands some creativity and some punctuality come soon, made him regret taking this guy up on his offer. But, $5,000 would cover a semester, and it’s only a couple of days work. Besides, this guy's got what, a week or two to live; he won’t care if it’s that good or not. Mr. Taylor elevated his seat to make himself level with the young man. At first he was looking down, the old skin sagging with gravity, but as the bed reached its highest point he turns. His eyes are a dark and empty stare. Almost hollow. His hand slowly rose up, up to his head, moving his fingers where his hair used to be, as if it were still there. â€Å"I used to own a convertible you know. A baby blue Cadillac convertible. It was a gift for being the best salesman in the region. The only state in the south that I hadn’t sold in yet was Louisiana. So when they asked me if I would like to work down there for a bit, I thought it would be fun. Go down to New Orleans, go gator hunten, meet some new girls.† said Mr. Taylor as he smiled. â€Å"My little brother had just graduated high school, so I got him ...